Парфюмер. История одного убийцы

           Evenifthefellowcoulddeliverittohimbythegallon,BaldiniwouldnotdreamofscentingCountVerhamont’sSpanishhideswithit,but…Buthehadnotbeenaperfumerhislifelong,hadnotconcernedhimselfhislifelongwiththeblendingofscents,tohavelostallprofessionalpassionsfromoaemomenttothenext.Rightnowhewasinterestedinfindingouttheformulaforthisdamnedperfume,andbeyondthat,instudyingthegiftsofthismysteriousboy,whohadparsedascentrightoffhisforehead.Hewantedtoknowwhatwasbehindthat.Hewasquitesimplycurious.“Youhave,itappears,afinenose,youngman,”hesaid,onceGrenouillehadceasedhiswheezings;andhesteppedbackintotheworkshop,carefullysettingthecandlestickontheworktable,“withoutdoubt,afinenose,but…”“IhavethebestnoseinParis,MaitreBaldini,”Grenouilleinterruptedwitharasp.“Iknowalltheodorsintheworld,allofthem,onlyIdon’tknowthenamesofsomeofthem,butIcanlearnthenames.Theodorsthathavenames,therearen’tmanyofthose,thereareonlyafewthousand.I’lllearnthemall,I’llneverforgetthenameofthatbalm,storax,thebalmiscalledstorax,it’scalledstorax…”“Silence!”shoutedBaldini.“DonotinterruptmewhenI’mspeaking!Youareimpertinentandinsolent.Nooneknowsathousandodorsbyname.EvenIdon’tknowathousandofthembyname,atbestafewhundred,fortherearen’tmorethanafewhundredinourbusiness,alltherestaren’todors,theyaresimplystenches.